Betrayed Heiress: My Second Chance Mate is A Lycan King

Aira’s POV

“Welcome to Aristotle Arts Gallery; we hope you have a remarkable time,” the tour guide says with a bright smile on his face. He seems to be in his early twenties, with messy brown hair and deep blue eyes.

He is wearing a blue shirt and cap with the gallery’s name on it, along with some dark pants. He hands Alex and me a flier, and I smile at him gratefully.

“Thank you,” I tell him, seeing as Alex is just going to pretend like the young man doesn’t exist.

“You are welcome. Make sure to read the pamphlet and abide by our rules and regulations. No touching of any of the paintings; do not take any pictures, and make sure to stay out of all forbidden areas,” he says, and I nod in understanding.

“We will,” I tell him, and he steps aside for us to pass through.

“Enjoy!” he says, waving at us as we enter the gallery. The second we do, I am instantly in awe.

The art is absolutely beautiful.

Alex and I went hand in hand exploring the art gallery with a few other art lovers. It is safe to say that I am beyond moved by the great talents of other artists. Some of the paintings on the walls told stories-some painful, others beautiful. But they were all stories nonetheless. And each portrait told at least one story.

I was so intrigued by the beauty of it all that I almost did not realize that Alex had yawned three times within the last ten minutes out of boredom.

“You don’t seem to be having much fun,” I tell him with a slight frown.

“No, not really,” he admits, and my heart shatters at the fact that he isn’t enjoying the sights as much as I am.

“Then why did you want to come here?” I ask him, and he meets my eyes.

“For you,” he says, and my eyebrows shoot to the top of his head. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “You said how much painting and all of this stuff helps calm you down and makes you feel better. When I heard that this place would be opening, I thought you would love to come here.”

His words warm my heart. He inconvenienced himself just so that I could have a good time. “That is very sweet of you, Alex, but I could have easily come here on my own. You didn’t have to suffer yourself if you knew you weren’t going to have a good time.”

He meets my eyes, and the words he says next make a shiver go up my spine. “I wanted to be there to witness your smile. That is worth more than anything.” His words bring a smile to my lips, and he places a hand on my cheek. “Don’t worry, okay? I am fine. Just focus on having a good time and enjoying yourself. Forget I am here.”

“That is actually going to be very hard,” I tell him honestly.

“Then let me go use the restroom real quick. Take the time to distract yourself,” he says, and I cannot stop myself from wrapping my arms around him. I bury my face in his chest and find myself smiling into it.

“I love you,” I mutter, and his body tenses up, but for only a second. He relaxes and caresses my hair gently.

“I love you more,” he rasps, and I am about to argue with him when he pulls away and places a gentle kiss on the top of my head. “Be right back,” he says before parting from me and disappearing from my line of vision.

I focus my attention on the art work, but I am intrigued by one in particular. It is a painting of a bleeding wolf beside a divine being, the moon goddess. It had to be her. or at least a representation of her.

She is crouched beside the injured wolf, gazing down at the poor creature with such loving eyes.

There is just something about the painting that catches my curiosity. I want to know more about it. I want to know what the painting is trying to say. My gaze falls on the bottom of the portrait, and the name of the painter causes my heart to freeze in its beat.

Marco Kingston.

My father drew this.

“Interesting artwork, isn’t it?”

A small scream leaves my lips as an unfamiliar voice speaks behind me. I spin on my heel to come face-to-face with a middle-aged woman. She had hazel eyes, was a few inches shorter than me, and had the palest shade of blonde hair I have ever seen. She is wearing the same uniform I saw the tour guide wearing before we entered this gallery.

Something about the way she smiles at me is so welcoming yet so cold at the same time.

“Oh my God, you scared me,” I say, placing a hand over my chest to calm my fast-beat heart. She doesn’t say anything; she only continues to smile at me. weird. “Um, yes, the painting is a rather interesting one.”

“Well, there are more like it. Just go down this hall and you will see more interesting paintings just like it,” she says, and I offer her an appreciative smile, even though I was still a little bit creeped out.

“Thank you,” I tell her, and once again she doesn’t respond. Just smiles.

Okay then.

I go down the hall, and true to her words, the paintings on the wall leave me absolutely speechless. There is so much divinity, bloodshed, pain, sorrow, and yet joy in these paintings. My eyes just couldn’t get enough of them.NôvelDrama.Org content.

Most of them were portraits of the moon goddess and a lesser wolf; some were of the lesser wolf standing high and mighty amidst thousands of wolves; it appeared as though they were praising the lesser wolf. But there was only one that caught my attention the most.

At the very end of the hall was a painting. It was of a girl in a white dress; she was standing in the middle of the grave on a full moon. When my gaze falls on the name of the painter, my blood freezes in my veins.

Aira Kingston.

What?

A piercing scream tears through my throat when a cold hand falls on my shoulder. Spinning on my heel, I come face-to-face with the tour guide I met at the entrance with Alex. “Ma’am, this is a private section. You are not supposed to be here,” he says, and my eyebrows crease.

“But the other tour guide said I could come here,” I tell him, and he looks at me like I have lost my mind.

“There is no other tour guide in this gallery; I am the only one.”

Oh, hell no.

My feet take a subconscious step back, and my back meets something hard. Spinning on my heel, my eyes lock with Alex’s worried ones. “Hey, I have been looking for you,” he says, frowning as he takes a look at my face. That is when I realized that there were beads of sweat trickling down it. “Are you okay? You are sweating a lot, and you look kind of pale.”

“I am fine,” I stutter, looking over my shoulder to find the tour guide looking at me with both confusion and worry. My eyes travel back to the painting of the girl in a graveyard, but there is one problem. It’s not there.

The spot at which I was certain it hung on the wall is now empty. Just a plain, void wall.

Okay, I think that is enough sight-seeing for me. I take Alex by the wrist and drag him out of the section. “We need to leave.”

“But there’s a section where they serve desserts,” Alex says, almost whining. I drag him out of the gallery and towards the car.

When we both get in, I say, “We will have dessert when we get home, but for now I need you to drive.” I tell him, and he doesn’t question me further. He starts up the engine immediately, zooms out of the gallery’s parking lot, and heads straight home.

During the drive, I feel him glance at me occasionally.

“Aira, what’s going on? Talk to me, and I will help. You are scaring me,” he says, and I pinch my eyes shut.

“I am sorry. I don’t know what’s going, I just-” I pause and run a hand through my hair. “I think I just need some sleep.” I can tell that he is not even the tiniest bit convinced by what I just said, but he remains silent.

When we return to the palace, he walks over to my side and helps me out of the car. I am surprised when he scoops me into his arms and takes me up to his room.

When we get there, he places me gently on the bed in a sitting position. He sits beside me and looks at me with sadness written all over his striking eyes.

“Today was supposed to be a fun day; I don’t know where it all went wrong. I am sorry,” he says softly, and my heart shatters into a million pieces.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, taking his face into my hands. “I had fun, okay? In fact, I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun in my life. I just got very tired early, and I just need to get some rest, and I will be fine.”

He pouts at me, and I have to stop myself from gushing at the sight. He looks just like a child when he does that. “Are you sure that is all?”

“Affirmative,” I say.

“Okay,” he whispers, then places a quick kiss on my lips. We wrap our arms around each other. I do not know why, but I expected this hug to fill me with warmth. But instead, it does the exact opposite.

It fills me with an uncomfortable chill. The very same one I felt when I stared at that painting. What a weird day this has been.

“Aira… Wake up, Aira,” says a shrill, scratchy voice. It sends a wave of goosebumps through my skin.

“Who is that? Who is there?” I call out, but no one answers. I feel something move past me, and I spin on my heel to meet nothing but darkness. “If someone is there, you better come out! This isn’t funny!”

“Aira, wake up,” the voice says, this time coming from behind me. I spin in a circle to find the woman from the art gallery earlier, still smiling at me. “Who are you? And what do you want from me?!” I scream, trying to put as much distance between her and myself as possible.

“You don’t know who I am, but you will soon,” she says, that smile still not leaving her face. I watch with my own two eyes as her neck splits right open and blood trickles down it like a fountain.

“NO!”

A heavy gasp leaves my lips as I shoot up into a sitting position. I push some strands of my hair out of my face but only end up getting dirt on them.

What?

I stare at my hands to find dirt all over them. It is also all over my white night dress. How did I end up out here? The last thing I remember is falling asleep in Alex’s arms. My gaze lifts skyward, and I stare at the full moon shining brightly above me.

No. This can’t be happening.

Shooting up to my feet, a scream leaves my lips as I spin around in a circle. I am nowhere near Alex or the palace.

But in the middle of a graveyard.